


To survive take a step into the unknown, wary, but courageous

by Quin



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quin/pseuds/Quin
Summary: Desperately looking for a solution to win the fight against the White Walkers, Sansa finds a weird ring that plunges her into another dimension. There she continues her search for help against the army of the dead.
Relationships: Sansa Stark & Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47
Collections: X-Ship - The Crossover Relationship Exchange 2019





	To survive take a step into the unknown, wary, but courageous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vaznetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaznetti/gifts).



1

Not enough. Not good enough. Simply not enough. Absent-mindedly, Sansa clutches a bag containing a dragonglass sample. She stares out of the window. It is incredible how fast the days become shorter, grow darker as the army of the Night King advances.

And it has all been in vain. Sansa still doesn’t get why Jon has bend the knee to that Targaryen queen in the first place. They could have convinced her that she needed the North to have a place to call home, not the other way around.

Now they’ve made a deal with no good outcome. On the surface it looked like there was an endless amount of dragonglass beneath Dragonstone. However, after the first few days of mining, all the men have hit with their pickaxes is unyielding rock. They tried different places, but the results were all the same.

It might have been enough to supply the most capable fighters with dragonglass weapons if every third batch of it wasn't of such inferior quality. Fragile dragonglass that shattered upon one wrong move would not be able to withstand a blacksmith’s hammer. Not to speak of the unforgiving enemy that waits to sweep the living from Westeros. 

They have to find another solution. Fast.

There’s a pile of books sitting on Sansa’s desk. Some old heavy tomes bound in wrinkled leather which once belonged to her parents. She has meant to give them to Sam, but there has always been something else to do and Sansa forgot.

One of the titles catches her eye. _Realms beyond the mortal eye – a higher mystery to be explored._

What if by some mysterious trick they could send the White Walkers and their armies of wights somewhere where they could do no harm?

It seems to be a ridiculous hope, but despite her doubts, Sansa grabs the book. Dust billows up and makes her cough. Something falls out and hits the ground with a clink. Sansa bends down and picks it up. It’s large and heavy in her small hand. She inspects the item carefully. It consists of a beautifully ornamented bar which appears to be made of pure gold. Attached to the bar are two loops of nearly equal size. The piece looks like someone has stuck two rings together.

Sansa wonders if this is some pseudo magical trinket or if it really holds any power. She wants to open the tome and search for answers. However, she can’t lift the cover. It is as if something holds her back by force. She tries again and again, but to no avail. How could the rings fall out when she can’t even get the book to open?

She scratches her head, weighing the jewellery in her hand. Suddenly, the solution hits Sansa. She assumes she needs to slide the rings over her fingers to make the tome reveal its contents to her. Though if this piece is really a tool of the higher mysteries, it could be possibly dangerous. Very dangerous.

Then again, what could possibly be more dangerous than the Night King and his legion?

Sansa has never been a reckless one, but desperate times call for desperate measures. She slides the rings over the index and middle finger of her left hand. The gold is pleasantly warm against her skin. Nothing more.

Sansa breathes a sigh of relief that she wasn’t suddenly burnt by unholy fire or cursed by an ancient force turning her into a pile of ash - like in one of those stories Old Nan used to tell. Ah, sweet childhood memories.

Nevertheless, she can’t allow herself to get distracted. Sansa focuses her attention once more on getting a page open to read. Her arms feel heavier than usual. Still, she is finally able to browse the tome. Sansa flips through the pages over and over again, but to her disappointment she can’t decipher a single word. There are many symbols and drawings she has never seen before.

What a waste of precious time. Sighing, Sansa forcefully slams the book shut again. She rubs her face, trying to rub the weariness of months away. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a golden shimmer.

Is the sun already setting? Sansa is well-aware that there is little daylight to be had. Nevertheless, she hasn’t expected it to be this late. To her irritation, instead of fading, the light intensifies. Sansa looks up.

Alarmed, she sees an image of a ring pulsing in different shades of orange right in front of her. Sparks fly from it as it grows larger and larger.

Instinctively, Sansa steps away, but the ring follows her. Her pulse speeds up as she tries to decide whether it is a good idea to scream for help or not. But before she can make a decision, a foreign energy seizes her, pulling at her. Unable to do anything to stop it, Sansa’s left arm rises, her hand drawing a few complicated patterns in the air. She is sure she saw these patterns in the book, but their true meanings remain hidden as the foreign power toys with her.

Bolts of light flicker at high speed. The same high speed that makes her heart race now. Sansa’s mouth becomes dry, her muscles soon feel sore as she fights for control. The last thing Sansa senses is a strong current of air hitting her as she is sucked away by a storm of flashing lights and strong gusts of wind. Then her vision is clouded in darkness.

2

Sansa is a survivor. Not because she is fearless and powerful – she has been afraid frequently when she holds little influence over her fate – but because she knows how to observe and how to adapt. She wakes up twice somewhere strange. The first time her head hurts like hell, her body floats past shapes she can’t name in a burst of colours that almost blind Sansa. There is no day, no night, no creature or man. The only word Sansa can find to describe what she sees is endless. The headache never ceases, so she holds on to her patience, thinking of her family, moments which give her strength.

Then when she expects it the least, her rings and the foreign force within it come alive, throwing Sansa into another fire-adorned black hole. Upon regaining consciousness, there are so many sensations to process, Sansa wonders if the pain in her temples will ever stop. Some things are familiar, like a sunrise and a sunset, human beings, but also hunger and thirst.

Yet a million more things are beyond the world Sansa has known so far. The humans she encounters speak a language she doesn’t understand. Soon she can tell that everyone she encounters thinks she is a lunatic – someone they need to avoid at worst, at best they throw her something edible. The food tastes strange: incredibly salty and spicy; and it burns in her stomach for the first few weeks. Nevertheless, Sansa knows no matter how weird it is, the few bits keep her nourished.

The houses or keeps that people live in do have four walls and a roof. Though that is all they have in common with Westerosi dwellings. They are much taller, touching the sky and their walls are so clear they mirror the clouds. Sansa doesn’t get to see the inside. She is a beggar, and beggars are neither wanted in the Seven Kingdoms nor in this new place. 

Sometimes the people also throw her coins and small pieces of paper. It takes Sansa a while to find out where to trade them and how much they are worth. Her initial attempt makes her lose her earnings and almost costs her her life as well.

Her new home is filled with strange magic that everyone else seems to have mastered except for her. The carriages are not horse-drawn; they are powered by something else, something extremely noisy and much faster than a horse ever could be. They almost run her over when Sansa attempts to cross the broad street to reach one of the shops the inhabitants visit for food.

The carriages’ wheels make an alarmingly high-pitched sound as if the wheels are about to break, the drivers scream curses at her and the sole reason why Sansa only ends up with torn clothes and a pair of bloody knees is because someone pulls her away at the last minute. Afterwards, her beggings are gone. In spite of her stomach being upset, Sansa is not, when some days later, she witnesses how a woman does not get up anymore of being hit by a new-world carriage.

Sansa freezes, gets soaked by rain, is gnawed by hunger, gets homesick and hit by robbers. Yet, there is one thing that gives her hope in this outlandish city: Wherever Sansa looks she finds the word Stark: printed on papers citizens read, put on the oversize carriages in which large groups of travellers can ride, on small and large boxes which magically show moving pictures of things that are apparently happening in other places and in large letters high up at the top of a huge building. There is no banner flying a direwolf, but still this has to mean something, some sign of a greater force at work?

Remembering the title of the tome that fell into her hands in Winterfell’s study, Sansa thinks that if it is possible that there are multiple realms connected to each other, it is also possible that they might share similarities beyond what is obvious.

It is worth a try. She has never heard of a Stark that wasn’t part of her house and the remaining members of House Stark stick together. Sansa firmly promises to herself that once she is surer of how to navigate this new world, she will seek out the Starks and ask for their help. If their name is everywhere, they must hold some influence, have resources, access to the magic on which this society runs. And the means to stop the White Walkers.

With these thoughts on her mind, Sansa knows she will endure the hardships of life as a beggar until she is ready to find the unknown Starks.

3

The sun has risen and set a hundred times according to her count. All Sansa can hope for is that her family, friends, and allies are still alive. Maybe time behaves differently in the worlds she has seen so far. She cannot estimate how likely this is, but if it is likely at all, this is enough for Sansa to carry on.

She observes, learns, plans, adapts her strategy. There is only one Stark and his name is Tony. His parents are apparently deceased and he hasn’t yet founded a family of his own. It bewilders Sansa a bit that Tony’s father and mother hadn’t arranged a marriage for Tony, even though his father Howard was quite a successful merchant. Or tycoon as they call them here. A good match anyhow.

Despite having no family, there are always a bunch of people surrounding Tony. Fellow merchants, personal guards, and a beautiful red-haired woman, probably Tony’s paramour.

Sansa is never able to beg enough to trade her coins for some better clothes. Another thing Westeros and her new home have in common: appearance matters. If she walks into Stark Industries all filthy and smelly, they will throw her out. It takes a while, but after considering everything she has learnt of Tony, Sansa makes her move. She steals the means to send a message after figuring out that instead of using ravens, human messengers do the service in so called mail shops or by collecting the messages from blue boxes.

Sansa pins her hope on Tony’s curiosity. He seems to be the forward-thinking kind of man, someone who wants to explore the unknown and use it for the greater good. And Sansa has the unknown. She sends Tony a small piece of dragonglass from her bag with a note to come find her.

When after a week nothing happens, Sansa sends another note. She is unsure whether she should write more about herself, but maybe too much information will make Tony sceptical about whether he can trust her words or if she is worth it. After all, Sansa knows a lot about deception and betrayal, herself. A third and fourth note also go out unnoticed. Maybe one of the messages got lost, but certainly not all? Maybe Tony’s maester has opened the notes and discarded them.

She has to take a chance. Sansa decides to pay Stark Industries a visit. Hide somewhere. Wait for Tony. And drop the rest of her dragonglass in front of his feet.

4

Plans never go as expected. Guards send Sansa to the floor and restrain her as soon as she enters the first hall. Did they know she would come? She struggles, tries to kick someone, but there are too many strong hands holding her in place. It’s useless as screaming for Tony would probably be.

Voices float around her.

“What’s the problem here, Happy?”

“Don’t mind this bum, sir. We’re going to take care of her.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, mister. And since when do we beat beggars up? There’s no need for that. Give her some food, alcohol or money instead, and she will be gone.”

“Tony, she’s not a simple beggar. I think it’s the whacko who keeps sending you weird stones, asking you to meet her as if it’s important. Don’t waste your time on her. She either belongs in the nuthouse or she is dangerous or both.”

Sansa’s groans inwardly. This is it. Of course, they’re not happy with her. She has deluded herself, seeing something meaningful in the name Stark where there was nothing. The Gods are probably laughing about her. They haven’t been kind to her parents or her siblings either. Now is not the time to think about how that will change her plans to save the North, she has to steel herself for what’s happening in the present.

A hit into the face or a boot into the stomach, tying her up, that’s what Sansa expects to come next. Thus, she is very much surprised when the guards let go of her and an outstretched hand lingers in front of her face.

After a moment of hesitation, Sansa takes the hand helping her to her feet. She finds herself eye-to-eye with the man whose face she has seen so often displayed in this city: Tony Stark himself.

Before Sansa can utter a word, Tony laughs wholeheartedly.

“Happy, how often have people called me a whacko as well? Look at her, she is barely older than Peter and she looks like a huge mess.”

The guard captain, the one who is apparently called Happy, eyes her sceptically. “And what if some terrorist organisation has disguised her and sent her over to kill you?”

Tony shrugs. “Then we probably would have been dead by now. And you wouldn’t have done your job properly. Would you have let her set foot in Stark Industries if you suspected her to be a terrorist? No,” he answers his own question. “You have let S.H.I.E.L.D. arrest her first.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Happy says somewhat impatiently. “Can we send her away now? Give me a ten-dollar bill. Or fifty dollars. Whatever.”

Sansa senses an opportunity to be heard. She puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t want money,” she announces loud and clear. “I want to talk with Sir Tony about the dragonglass.”

Happy sighs. “No,” he declares.

While at the same time, an “Okay,” comes from Tony.

“Seriously?” The guard captain rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have more important items on your agenda?”

“I can decide what’s important on my agenda,” Tony remarks sarcastically. “I can at least hear her out. The days are over where I am in denial about people in need. I don’t want a repeat of where wrongdoings are happening right in front of me and I am still blind to them.”

Sansa silently observes the dispute between Tony and Happy, hoping the latter won’t sway Tony. In addition, she needs to try to find out whether the rumours about Tony are true. Is he really the whimsical eccentric the citizens declare him to be? She probably will constantly need to adapt her approach when dealing with him.

“So, you’re going to take her to your office and while you’re alone with her, then what? She will attack you with that dragonglass she is always rambling about?”

Tony snorts. “Why are you so worried about me, Happy? Afraid of losing your employer, your job? Fine,“ he gives in. “I’ll wear my suit and you and your men and women can stand guard in front of my door.”

It happens way too fast for Sansa to understand what’s going on exactly. One moment Tony is wearing what they call here black dress pants with a matching jacket over a white shirt. And in a blink of an eye, he is protected by heavy amour – shining red and gold from head to toe without the help of a squire. Sansa’s jaw wants to drop to the floor. Even though she has seen so many things she thought she would never see, there is still a part of her that can be amazed. The craftsmanship is nothing like she saw in Westeros – each piece of the armour appears to be homogenously made, she can’t see any flaws in it.

She straightens her back, smooths out the crinkles in the rags she is wearing. Maybe she should see that she still can be amazed in a positive light. It means there is hope in a dire situation. Still, Sansa knows she has to keep it together. Beggar or not, she is a Stark, and not a mere petitioner. Her name holds meaning in her world – the one she needs to save.

Tony gives her a small, curious smile and beckons Sansa to follow him. His armoured boots clank on the polished marble floors while Sansa bare feet slide silently over the cold stone. Happy and his guard soldiers trail after them.

But Sansa doesn’t feel like a prisoner. She is highly alert, yes, but right now, the worst that will happen is that Tony will laugh her off and put her back on the streets. All the outcomes in which he doesn’t help her return to her family and raise the odds against the White Walkers are the worst, so there is no need to worry about her own safety.

After several minutes pass, they arrive at Tony’s study. He holds the door open for her and once she enters, Tony comes in and shuts the door again, leaving the guards outside.

Sansa gives into the urge to wet her lips with her tongue.

“Take a seat,” Tony says as he marches forward. “Coffee or maybe something stronger?”

Sansa accepts a coffee, glad for the rich, warming brew giving her a shot of energy.

Although Tony’s armour seems extremely heavy, he effortlessly glides behind his desk, sitting down on a chair much too small for his enhanced build.

“I don’t have much time for pleasantries and I reckon you’re not the type of person that likes to waste time on empty phrases either if you’re that persistent. But, I would like to know your name, kid.”

Kid? Sansa raises an eyebrow. “My name is Sansa. Before I arrived in your city, I lived in a place where people listened to my guidance.”

“So, why did you leave then, Miss Sansa?” Tony raises an eyebrow in return.” What do you want from good old Tony Stark and why do you expect me to give it to you when I could give something to hundreds of other people wanting something from me?”

Sansa scratches her chin. Now why was he suddenly playing hard to get, when a moment ago with Happy he declared he wouldn’t turn down people in need? Well, of course, Tony would have to check if she had a genuine request, people like him are always vulnerable to exploitation. The more power you hold, the more people want to deprive you of it. That she has learnt in the game of thrones.

“Did you look at the dragonglass?” Sansa answers with a question of her own.

“Why should I?” Tony leans back, crossing his arms.

Sansa clicks her tongue. “Your reputation says you’re a man of curiosity, a man who doesn’t back away from the unknown. But maybe they all have it wrong and you’re just hiding in your steel castle while out there, reality devours the people that you deem beneath yourself.”

Tony shoots forward, trying to stare Sansa down. Sansa doesn’t blink and stares back. She needs to hold the attention of this man. Tony’s conversation with his guard captain has given Sansa just enough information to trigger a nerve.

“What do you know of devouring realities? Speak,” Tony demands and continues to eye her. “Show me that dragonglass.” He points towards his desk.

Sansa gets up and empties the bag. “Have you ever seen something like this before? Why does some of it break so easily while others can endure the smith’s hammer all day? Do you by chance know where to get more? Some of good quality?”

Tony doesn’t reply. Instead he picks up a piece to examine it. Sansa winces as it crumbles beneath his armoured fist. Tony purses his lips and suddenly, the part of his armour that covered his hands and arms is gone. In contrast, the visor of his helmets is closed, but somehow behind that visor some lights are blinking wildly. Tony mumbles to himself, Sansa doesn’t understand the meaning of any of the words she catches.

She questions if the coffee was the right choice after all. After drinking it, she somehow feels more on edge than before. After an eternity, Tony opens the visor and simply says: “Interesting.”

He pauses, lost in thought before he refocuses on Sansa. “Answer my questions. Where did you get that and why do you want more?”

Sansa sighs. She has the impression long-winded explanations are not the play here. And no matter what she says, it will probably make her sound like she has lost her wits. Because she has to admit, if she told some random stranger in Westeros what she has seen here, they wouldn’t believe her either. A lot of people on Westeros even denied the existence of the White Walkers until their arrival proved otherwise. Thus, she keeps it curt.

“It’s from beneath Dragonstone. And it makes for good weapons to use against White Walkers, if it doesn’t break.”

As Sansa expected, Tony narrows his eyes. “Why would you need weapons? I disarmed this company, reformed it and you want weapons? Violence just breeds more violence.”

His voice is dead serious and makes a shiver run down Sansa's spine. But the dead are worse. She plays with the ring on her fingers to try settle her nerves.

“The White Walkers command an army of beings that have already died in the war. They wage war on the living and they turn the fallen against them by adding them to their army. The White Walkers want to wipe all life from Westeros. The dragonglass is the only material that can stop them. These weapons don’t breed violence, they save lives,” Sansa insists and then snaps. “Who are you to judge anyway? Why do you prance around in armour if your home is a weaponless place?”

Tony strokes his beard. Then, without a warning, he grabs Sansa’s hand and pulls the ring off. Sansa cries out in protest.

“Where did you steal it, kid?”

Sansa rises as well, a stern expression on her face. “I didn’t steal it. It’s rightfully mine. I found it in a book in my parents’ study. Give it back to me.”

In the span of a moment, a smile wanders onto Tony’s face. The rest of his armour disappears and he walks over to her. “You don’t really know what this is, am I right or am I right? But it transported you right here, and it didn’t take you back where you came from, yes?”

Confused by the change in Tony’s behaviour, Sansa only nods.

“I know that much. It’s a sling ring and it transports you through dimensions,” Tony says, “but why, when, and how, I reckon Stephen Strange will be better at explaining those to you. Helping you out, getting you back home.”

Bewildered, Sansa shakes her head. “Can you please repeat what you told me? You believe me that I am not from here and you want to send me home?”

“Surprised that I do? As you said so well, I am a man of curiosity and an explorer of boundaries. I am well aware that there are other dimensions and if you say you’re from Dragonstone or Westeros or wherever, then you are.” Tony shrugs.

Sansa slightly backs away from Tony. She is not sure if his apparent friendliness towards her is just a trick.

“Don’t you dare try to simply get rid of me. I won’t go back to Westeros without a solution to fight the White Walkers. If you don’t want to help me, I’ll find somebody else to do it. Just return the ring and I’ll be gone,” she spits out.

Tony’s smile broadens and Sansa feels her annoyance on the rise as he closes the distance between them again.

“Well, kid, but I do like your fire. That and your red hair reminds me of Pepper. Maybe if we both lived in Westeros, we would be members of House Stark with a daughter to be proud of.”

Sansa looks at Tony in disbelief. She must be dreaming. When is she going to wake up from this long, irritating dream?

“How do you know about House Stark?” she is finally able to utter.

Tony turns around the bag where Sansa has kept the dragonglass. It shows the grey direwolf on a white field and the words “Winter is coming.” Above the sigil that actually everyone in Westeros knows, someone still has crookedly stitched House Stark to state the obvious.

“Do I believe in fate or don’t I? I am not sure,” Tony muses. “My life has had its ups and downs and if I trust you to be honest, then yours has had its share of turmoil as well. But life is a series of interesting lessons, as Pepper would say, and it has taught me many things. I need to protect the ones I love and that includes the world they love. I personally might take risks, but I am not going to risk that these White Walkers of yours will open a portal one day and come to Earth.”

Sansa is holding her breath as she observes Tony talking. After so many ups and downs, she doesn't want to get her hopes too high, but her heart is a treacherous one, as it begins beating faster.

“My first analysis of the material tells me that it is no more harmful than the average material we have here. Say if you make a knife out of it, you would have a knife you could use in a kitchen or you could stab someone.” Tony waves towards the dragonglass as he continues speaking. “Not a weapon of mass murder exactly. However, it has an interesting energy to it. I am not a master of the arcane, but my computer database is filled with lots of resources. According to them, the dead can indeed rise again on the command of their masters and this dragonglass can purify all of them of the unholy source that keeps them moving.”

Sansa eventually has to gasp for air. There has to be a catch somewhere. She has to be upfront and ensure that she knows all the terms she is dealing with currently.

“But you have to disappoint me and tell me that there is nothing that can be done about its quality?” she interjects. “Or do you need something in return?”

Tony cocks his head back and barks out a laugh. Sansa wrinkles her forehead in exasperation.

When Tony is done laughing, he holds up his hands. “Sorry for that. I see that your life has made you wary and that to survive you need to keep doubting what you see. Nevertheless, Sansa of House Stark, I, Tony Stark, ensure you that it is true that I don’t stop at what people assume to be obstacles. I will strive to learn everything there is to know about dragonglass and I will improve it, so it not only fulfills its purpose, but it will be the best it can be.”

5

For the first time in ages Sansa is not tired anymore. She is still cautious, as one has to be cautious when facing the enemy. And it is her first battle that is not fought with intrigues and false play. She is glad, incredibly glad, that she found someone who has kept his promise even though she had qualms about it originally. It has helped rebuild her belief in the strength and essence of House Stark.

It is an incredible liberating feeling as Sansa soars high up in the air above Winterfell in the small, but compact suit Tony has made for her. It doesn’t hold much ammunition, but the dragonglass arrows she fires find their target with precision: into the heart of the Night King.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Karios for betaing.


End file.
